Lock Me Up
by Valexian rose
Summary: Peter wasn't always the bad boy, wasn't always sadistic or a masochist. He changed for the better when he met Tris, things were nice, he had a great job, friends, and he was thinking of proposing. And then she disappeared a year into their relationship, now 5 years later, he's found her, with a child in her arms.
1. Chapter 1

The yells and screaming could be heard all down the hall, echoing and muffling with each passing door, and if they weren't on the fourth floor, it would have been heard even from the front entrance. His yells were always deep, muffled, slurred and something always broke after his voice bellowed through the ghostly painted door. The girl was always different however, sometimes the relationship lasted a week, if they were lucky it would move to a month, but the man they chose to be with was a difficult person.

Another crash, glass breaking, bodies thudding and a struggle. Apartment 203 was always like this, so much in fact that rooms 202 and 204 were empty, and only very rarely had residents. Her garbled scream and hoarse yells were finally enough for the night. The stark white door swung open and slammed closed, in the manner that everyone (including the door) had grown accustomed to. The woman tonight had only been here for three days, that seemed to be enough for her by the look on her pale face.

Her heeled feet stomped down the hall, red hair following as she held her trench coat closer to her body. Her brown eyes locking onto the 205 resident, who merely shook his head and leaned against the door frame. Funny thing that 205 always noticed, was that the women never had any cuts or bruises on them. It must just be a yelling fest. She stopped in front of the elevator and crossed her arms, not bothering to take in how nice the building was by the intricate designs on the walls or tile that scattered along the floor. The ding came later than she would have liked, she wanted to get out of there.

The man still back in apartment 203, however, wanted nothing more than to stay there. So he did, he stood in front of his door that should have had broken hinges by now. His thin fingers gripping the beer bottle in his hands, and his black hair as messy as it could be. His knuckles white, because nothing pissed him off more than a woman who wanted more than what she was going to get. His black brows furrowed and his lip curled up into a snarl which turned into a yell as the glass shattered upon hitting the already dented walls.

Now standing there staring at the wall on the far side of the room, he still wasn't satisfied. His hunter green eyes watching what little alcohol that was in the bottle drip down the white wall. Brown glass littered the floor in all sorts of places and if he had any intention of going back to his room he'd need to be very careful. Anger was still evident, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough anymore for him to be angry, it had been five years and still bedding a woman and trying to go back to how he was before he met her, was damn near impossible. A growl left his throat as his bare and scratched up back bumped back into his door, his fingertips brushing the uneven paint and again, the glare surfaced in his eyes. He hated it there.

One hand ran through his hair, tugging on it, as if that would soothe the raging headache he hosted, throbbing so deep in his skull even his eyes pounded. Slowly he slid down to the floor, the thin dark brown carpet really doing nothing to comfort him, his fingers curled in it, attempting to rip it out and keep him grounded. No he didn't hate it there. He hated her. His teeth bared as he thought of it again, her blonde hair, her shy smile, her bright stormy grey eyes. He hated her. His mind raced on despite the sharp knife stabbing through the sides of his head, somehow in some messed up way, his mind had started thinking of her. And as much as he hated her, no matter how angry he was right then, it slowly faded. His fingers loosening in the carpet, his eyelids drooping as salt rubbed the back of his eyes. He felt shame.

He hated himself, because she was gone. He didn't know how or why, or where even. She suddenly dropped off the face of the planet away from him. He wanted to know, and if he couldn't even get that, he'd be happy to know why. He frowned, the scowl gone as hot tears fell from his beautiful eyes. She had once called them that, called his eyes "beautiful." Maybe he wouldn't be happy with why, because then, he'd want to know more. And it was getting to know the shy girl who never talked that made him fall in love with her.

Savagely, mercilessly his mind forced him into a memory, into some place dark and away from his messy apartment. He nodded off, he was okay with it most days, but others he woke up wanting to hit something. He always remembered her in the fondest ways, in the soft touches in the tender kisses and whenever they had sex. He was a guy and his mind would never forget how his name fell from her bitten red lips, never forget how her whole body blushed or how soft her skin was under his calloused fingertips.

She was still asleep, that was okay with him though. He was able to trace her skin, the curves and edges and gentle slopes of her body, he loved every bit of it, waking up to her like this. It was early morning, they had an eventful night hanging out with their friends and going home to delve into each other like there was nothing more important on this earth. His still tired green eyes studying her relaxed expression, her slightly parted lips, her gently closed eyes. And though he loved seeing the fire in the foggy depths, he was content with the way her dark eyelashes brushed her cheeks. The gentle slope of her nose and her rosy cheeks from last night still touching her skin.

His hand gently rested on her waist over the covers, the grey-white sunlight drifting through the shades onto her skin. Painting lines over her shoulders and into her hair. His body covered her bare chest and face. She squirmed toward him still on her side, still nude. He loved seeing her this way. He would never admit it to her face, because the mornings for him were always so serene, it didn't seem like there was anything else for him to do but marvel at how beautiful she was.

He shifted closer to her, their legs tangling under the dark violet covers. He craned his neck down and brushed his nose gently to her hairline, her floral scent washing over him. Like a rose, a dark red rose and something else, the closest thing he could compare the other to would be strawberries. Roses and strawberries, his mind clicked, Valentines day was coming up, that would be a perfect gift. She hated chocolate, didn't ever want anything to do with it. Always said if she wanted something sweet she would eat fruit.

His lips curled, remembering how she was all he felt, all he smelled, tasted, wanted not a few hours ago. When she wakes up she would blush and apologise or do something foolish like ask if she pleased him. She made him happy, and that's all that really mattered to him. Gently, he pressed his thin lips to her temple, and then to her forehead, and to her nose and cheek and wrapped his arm fully around her.

He shifted, laying back down again, settling on the idea of making breakfast for her in the morning, or take her out to eat. She moaned, a small sound that sounded sweet coming from her throat. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and curled himself around her, tangling his limbs with hers and managing to wake her up a bit as he kissed the soft skin of her collar. She sighed a happy sigh, not opening her eyes, but her hand found the nape of his neck and his scalp. Her fingers lazily swirling and rubbing through his inch long dark messy hair. He hummed against her, his eyes falling closed. His mind fading as her motions grew slower and softer. Then he was out.

The door rumbled and a thick hard pounding filled the air. He woke with a start, his body jolting and scrambling from the door, a voice came through on the other side, distorted but he knew who it was anyway. No asshole at whatever time in the morning would pound on his door like that, save for one person. "Nobody's home Drew!" Peter managed, his headache worse now. The door swung open, apparently he forgot to lock it. The man named Drew was from room 205, was an okay guy really, just annoyed the shit out of the man on the floor. Drew stood there, brown eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised, "Really, falling asleep in sweatpants and nothing else?" The man on the floor glared the best he could, holding out a hand.

Drew hauled him to his feet and let him sit on the couch, "How much did you have to drink last night Peter?" He mumbled, the dark haired man glanced up at his… friend, and then stared at the wall. The wall that wasn't dented and bashed in or stained to hell. Drew still stood there, bent over and expecting an answer from the man he had come familiar with, in the sense that waking him up for work and helping clean his apartment was getting familiar with someone. After all Drew helped Peter in the mornings after a girl or after a night of getting wasted. "Well?"

"Enough," Peter growled, he was too tired for this, and as much as he hated dreaming of her, he wanted to sleep. His eyes fell closed, he didn't care if he looked like shit, or worse, he didn't care anymore. Snapping fingers and a hand kept him up however, and he found himself loathing yet another thing. "Get up asshole, you need to go to work," Leather was cold, save for the fact he rarely used this couch, he liked it. Peter just sat there, slouched with his palms up. Work? He had forgotten, how much he had run away into his job.

That was most of what he did for a living, he ran away. Holding hands with his boss or with a bottle he ran away from her and from his memories, he ran away from the feeling of her soft kisses or the way that her hand felt in his. Now he was glaring at the coffee table, as if it was the cause of all his problems and oh how he wished it was that simple. Abruptly he stood up, waiting for Drew to move, which he did, and then Peter stalked over to his room. Avoiding glass and the burning smell of alcohol he grabbed some clothes and took a shower.

By the time he was done getting ready he was wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans that he didn't care if he got ruined. He laced up some steel toe boots and shoved his gloves into his duffel bag for work. Not bothering to look at the contents of his room, he swung open his door. When he trudged outside his messy room, Drew already managed to clean up the hallway and kitchen, and was now scouring the fridge for something to make. His hands gripping the fridge as the frown grew in size. Peter spoke up, even though he found the sight amusing, "You won't find anything, I normally buy breakfast,"

"Well that makes sense, it's like, youre trying desperately hard to look single, even in your fridge," Drew huffed, tossing Peter a weird look. Peter just sighed at the brunette and waved him off saying that he can do what he wants with the place so long as he stays away from Peter's room. Then he's off, calmly and briskly walking down the hall, silently trudging down the concrete stairs. The rubber of his boots slapping down to the final floor, he quickly made his way through the parking lot. The sky a depressing grey, it was rainy season, just out of winter so he expected them to be rain clouds. After all, the asphalt already looked damp. His eyes locked onto his dark green Chevy malibu, silently he got in, threw his things into the back and started the car. Driving to work.

Soon he was pulling into the parking lot to a car garage, where he worked to fix cars and salvage the bad parts. He mainly dealt with crashes, because he was so good at fixing things. He scoffed, of course that's ironic as hell, he just had a degree in welding and knew what he was doing when it came to metal. The glass and metal door opened silently, and he walked up to one of the many desks in the building, logging in and then pushing back into the rec room. He sighed and dropped his things into his chair, knowing that no one will touch it because it was his.

The rec room was almost as depressing as the sky, save for a few posters of women sitting on the hood of sports cars. Peter never spared the women, even inked up on a sheet of paper, a second glance. Sure he would find them attractive, but that was about it for him. If he stared at anything it would be the model of the car, most of which he knew because he used to build model cars and display them. Back when he gave two shits, anyway. He shoved the chair shut and trudged over to the tanned lockers. Viciously yanking the master lock open and ripping the locker open. He wasn't angry, well not really, he was always like this. Some how life did something or he did something to make everything run in one big cycle.

Maybe it was because he moved, away from the town he met her and away from his parents and brother. A sigh left his lips as he pulled on his work clothes, leaving the shirt tied around his waist because he didn't start for a few more minutes. Again the question raced through his head, he didn't know why things happened the way they did, he wanted to know what he did. Or what he didn't do to make her leave. He would have changed for her. He knows he would, he got into the habit of that but then again he was no longer twenty three and the people pleaser. Now he was twenty seven and not exactly a nice guy anymore.

Peter left the rec room and passed a man he worked with named Cody. Blonde shaggy hair and brown eyes, kind of lanky but smart, was a nice kid and was an apprentice when it came to changing tires, really he wanted the experience with cars now before he was tossed out. He wanted to build cars and create new models, stuff like that and Peter acknowledged him for that reason of ambition. One could say that Cody was his friend from work, but they weren't really friends, just talked and worked together. On rare occasion they would share a drink together but that was about it.

Peter's booted feet carried him across the street without problem, as there were rarely any cars out this early. His rough hands pulling open the door to the coffee shop. And the smell of coffee hitting him in the face, milk sugar and ground beans was the go to smell for him, and really just the scent woke him up, but after the dream and the night with that woman, (He couldn't recall her name) he needed a pick me up. The line only had two people in it so it didn't take long. His eyes had already become used to the earthly colors and face smiles from the people who worked there. He was almost glad that this starbucks set up shop across the street from where he worked.

When it was his turn he addressed the barista with a nod and quickly ordered what he wanted, he was a regular there and he never changed what he ordered. Though he was partially new to the area, it was still like second nature. He used to be good at getting used to things, apparently that innate talent was useless when it came to her. With a sigh his eyes fell closed, he was tired of thinking of her, tired of his mind and his want of her smell her presence her anything. "Black coffee and blueberry scone for Peter?" A girl called and his eyes opened, the shop smelled of coffee and the walls were painted green, he smirked. What was he expecting? Some checkered table cloths and booths? No, not at all. His fingers wrapped around the cup and he nodded his thanks, grabbing his little paper brown bag he quickly walked back to work.

A customer walked in a few minutes after he was settled, and some of the other guys he worked with were there too. Some mentionable others who had a degree in something to do with cars that Peter really didn't care about. He wasn't exactly a talkative person anymore. He manned the computers and the money while everyone else worked the garage. His mind drifting off until Cody clapped Peter's shoulder roughly. His cold green eyes locked onto the boys tanned face, "Yes?"

"You got a girl on your mind or something? You're really out of it today,"

"No, I'm fine," Peter growled, "I just…" He stopped dead in his sentence, his eyes catching a tuft of blonde hair. Her blonde hair. His fingers gripped the desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his posture stiffened and his eyes grew wide. Hope fluttered and ate away at him slowly and painfully and for a moment he couldn't believe it. The door swung open, and in stepped a blonde, but it wasn't her. His stomach dropped and his heart ached, he struggled not to scowl as she walked up to them.

Her tone was soft but nothing like what he wanted it to be, her face was too round and her eyes too blue. She had freckles and plump lips like she had eaten something she was allergic to. Her body was fine, and he had no shame in looking, but she wasn't interesting. She wasn't what he wanted. Duly and broodingly Peter set everything up and said that she could wait here if she wanted to. She found a spot at the far side of the room, out of his sight and he sighed. Glaring down at his clenched fists and working with the pain that had suddenly resurfaced, he scowled at how miserable he allowed himself to become. Boots sounded heavy against the checkered tile floor, his green orbs locking onto the person approaching. Cody walked up to him and smirked, mumbling under his breath with a stupid grin on his face, "She was hot."

 **Edit: Didn't like the chapter as a whole so I added details in and fixed some minor mistakes.**


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of alcohol and sweat filled the thick air around the swaying bodies. The beat of the music droning heavily in the club, bouncing off the dark black quartz walls, and rumbling through the bones of each dancing girl and guy. The bass dropping with the lights and glowing paint covered the arms and faces of each person. Loud talking and the sound of glasses hitting glasses served as a background noise and the lights flickered many different colors, sweeping up the walls and over the streaked and un-streaked heads of each party goer. After all it was a party, a very well known party. His dark green eyes passed over each erotic and moving form in the crowd, skimming the tops of their heads or tracing along the neon colors that painted their skin in stripes and dots and various patterns.

The glass in his hands held an amber colored liquid, he couldn't really remember if it was Scotch or something else, maybe a Bourbon if he really wanted to taste it. Still, despite not taking a drink from the half empty glass for over 10 minutes, his tongue was thick and his brain buzzed. He wasn't counting his glasses, or how much his tab would be, and frankly he didn't care. He didn't even want to be there. Any place would have been better than being there. But, alas, Cody had wanted to hang out, and Peter was sold on the idea once he mentioned drinks and perhaps a girl to get him over his two week streak of no sex.

But by the Gods, why did Cody pick this place, _this_ club, on _this_ night? It was like the world was always against him. Because here, was his first kiss with her, where he danced with bright neon green patterns along his skin with her bumping and grinding into him. They were friends, but it was obvious both of them wanted to be more. He remembered as he downed his drink, how his hands slid down her painted blue and pink arms, down to her waist and then to her hips. He remembered, with a bitter taste in his mouth, the grin on her face when they were dancing to the music face to face, chest to chest.

Even worse, his mind replayed the soft pressure of her lips on his, of her painted pink fingertips running through his hair. Coloring it and dusting it, pulling lightly, how her tongue slid against his in a furious kiss in the middle of all the black clothes and neon colors. He blinked, eyes locking onto the dark wood of the bar he sat at. The music of now rushing back to his ears and pushing away the memory of her, of them.

A body fell into the seat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, Peter glanced over, eyes scanning the very drunk and very young face of Cody, who was shouting something about a girl and how he was going to bail. In a better spirit than most nights a grin slithered over Peters thin lips and he raised his glass, letting his friend and his ride leave. After two more glasses his bartender decided that was enough for him and made him sign off on his tab, though he didn't remember much of the action, or how much he paid. He doesn't remember going home and getting into his apartment, and he doesn't remember passing out on the couch. He does, however remember the dream, which was proof enough that he slept, and it haunted him the next day.

 _Again, he walked in early to his college course, his converse covered feet slapping lightly down on the tile of the floors. He was always first in his class, well according to the teacher, there was one girl. One girl with blonde hair that sat in the back who somehow got there before he did. Now he was about twenty minutes early, which he didn't mind because he quite liked the subject he studied under, and he was eager to get to school for it. But his preferred class wasn't for a few hours, doesn't mean he hated history._

 _He paused in his tracks, his eyes landing on her yet again, narrowing at her downcast face. That was another thing about her, she never looked up until the teacher addressed the class, and even then he didn't know what she really looked like, because he sat at the very front, she didn't. He watched as her fingers drummed in succession against the desk, her nails letting out a soft tap. It was the end of the first semester and still he hadn't the slightest clue of who she was, and he hated blundering in the dark._

 _A soft thud sounded in the almost empty room, his bag on the desk top perfectly. Craning his neck he looked up at her, the drumming of her fingers stopped and was soon replaced by his foot falls up the carpeted stairs. He was by her side in an instant, looking down at the empty space next to her. Sliding down without asking he laced his fingers together and placed them in front of him, looking at her. Though he could only see the side of her head, it was obvious that she was struggling not to look at him. A smirk eased onto his lips and he spoke up, voice soft and semi deep, though it was loud in the empty room, "You know," He began, "Every morning, I see you sitting up here, alone, and looking down," She didn't respond, but he didn't take her silence as disinterest. "I've never seen you around the halls either, it's like you're some ghost,"_

 _"Ghosts," She began, "Only show themselves when they want to be seen, don't you agree?" He looked at her, at the way her head tilted slightly towards him when she spoke. At the soft slope of her pointed nose and her defined cheekbones. But her voice, above all, was not what he would have expected it to be. It was soft, and a little bit deeper for a girl's, but nonetheless he liked the way it rolled off her tongue. And he agreed with himself that it suited her. Then her response caught up with his brain, "No, because you're not a ghost, you're human, at least I think. And it was a simile, not a metaphor or something literal," Now she was looking at him full on._

 _For a moment he was shocked beyond words, she was beautiful. Her hand tucked some of her straight dirty blonde hair behind her ear, and her doe like eyes looked up at him. They were this peculiar grey blue, like storm clouds over the ocean. Or the storm clouds one would see when lightning flashes and thunder quakes the ground as a challenge. Greedily his eyes scoured her face for every detail, afraid that she really was a ghost and would disappear before he got the chance to talk to her again. A soft smile graced her lips and she leaned against the desk, her hand holding her head up as her elbow caught on the wood. "What's your name?" She asked him,_

 _"Peter, Peter Hayes," He stumbled, still in awe of her. Then foolishly he held out his hand, before staring at it and frowning, wiping it off on his pants and then holding it out to her again. Unhappy that he was nervous around her, which caused his palms to sweat. She glanced at his outstretched hand, and then at his nervous face, and did something he didn't expect. She broke out in a hearty laugh, his shoulders faltered out of questioning. But the sound that came from her was followed by a sharp inhale, or it was broken off as she giggled at a more rapid rate. Regardless of what other people may have thought, the sound coming from her lips was one he wanted to hear again._

 _He found himself smiling at her, and eventually she calmed down from her spontaneous fit. Slowly he held out his hand again, and she took it this time with a grin on her face, "I'm Tris," Her hand was incredibly soft in his own, and he was worried for a moment that he would break her if he squeezed too hard. His eyes locked with hers and she held his hand a fraction of a second longer than what was normal, "It's nice to finally meet you Peter,"_

Slowly, his eyes opened, landing first on the ceiling fan. Which was slowly spinning and brushing his face with soft gusts of wind. Fingers twitching and a headache pounding he rubs his eyes, pressing in willing the the migraine to dissipate. A soft groan fell from his lips when his phone buzzed loudly against the coffee table. His green eyes opened into a narrow glare, a scowl on his face as he slid his finger over the screen, "Hello?" He growled, in a less than pleasant tone.

"Hey!" He winced, it was Cody, "Shit, sorry, you probably have a huge headache. I mean you got pretty smashed last night,"

"What do you want?" Peter sighed, he was well aware of how drunk he got, most of the night was a haze of half color and half not. Cody was silent for a moment, the sound of people working in the garage filling the line. Then he inhaled and answered, "Look, I know that, it's your day off, and you feel like shit," Peter sighed and stood up, making his way to his room, "But no one else is here that can fix car wrecks, and we just got this nissan in. You're the best there is and this car is pretty messed up,"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few," Peter sighed, pulling the phone away from his ear, but Cody's voice called him back, "One more thing, you're delivering the car after it's fixed."

"You already have the address?"

"Yes, some guy called, gave it to us, said that it was his car and that it got towed,"

"Was it totaled?" Peter asked, eyebrows raising in shock. If it car was totaled then it would be cheaper for the owner to buy a new car. He plopped down on his bed, untieing his shoes, "Nah, but it's pretty damn close, you'd need to check the engine, and maybe the pistons. Look, just get down here and take a look at it," Cody said and Peter hung up, checking the time, finding it to be almost 10. He sighed, the throbbing in his skull putting up much less of a fight and the dizziness was falling out of his system. He tossed his phone on his bed and stripped from his leather jacket and black t-shirt. Then walked back to his kitchen, his bare feet sensitive to the cold tile, a hiss whistling in through his teeth as he moved toward the cupboard.

His tongue rubbing over his teeth before he filled a glass with ice and water. He took a slow sip and took it back to his room, and into the bathroom. His eyes catching his body in the mirror, he wasn't one to check himself out, but he was a bit pleased with the tight muscles that slithered and coiled over his body like a snake. The rims of his eyes were red and irritated and his lips were slightly chapped. Quickly he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out two tylenol. He popped both pills and downed his glass of water, stripping from the rest of his clothes and taking a shower.

He was done and getting dressed in five minutes, sliding on holed jeans and a grey shirt, and finally his boots. Grabbing his phone, keys, wallet and duffel bag he was out the door in less than two minutes.

It was raining when he got to the parking lot, pulling up to the garage he worked at. Slowly he cut the engine and climbed out of his car. He jogged into the building and found Cody, who was closing up the shop. The younger guy turned and locked eyes with Peter, they were wider than normal, and he had dark circles under them. Cody sighed heavily and gestured for Peter to follow him, the older man slowly walked after him. The silence was gripping and the rain drummed hard against the metal garage doors.

Thoughts raced through Peter's aled mind, why was Cody reacting so, gently? Had he never seen a wreck before? No, stupid, Cody wanted to work and create cars that prevented wrecks. But something ate at his gut, spreading up like an icy fire and kissing at the skin on his arms. When he and Cody rounded a truck, he suddenly understood the grim expression that was mixed with bewilderment.

The car was a white Nissan Altima. The entire left side of the car looked like a semi smashed into it. The hood was dented and should have been ripped off, the left side caved inward and had black paint scraped all over it. It looked like a chunk was bitten and then almost curved next to the front left wheel, and the engine looked a bit damaged. The windshield was smashed and the left windows were completely shattered. Peter felt his green eyes widen and his clenched fist fell loosely. Words tumbled from his lips after Cody told him there was a family inside, "How did they survive?"


	3. Chapter 3

For almost three days straight now, it had been raining, storming hard enough for people to be wary of the howling wind that dragged cars and ripped limbs from trees. For those three days, the garage he worked at was closed. But that didn't stop him from working on repairing the wrecked car, not alone though, there was another man who specialized in engines and repair. Peter wasn't giving up however, not with this Nissan, there was just something, off, about it all.

With a sigh he cut the blowtorch and lifted his helmet, tossing it and placing the torch down on the metal table in front of him. His green eyes flicking back to the car he had to practically disassembled, and a curse fell from his lips, "Fuck," Removing his gloves he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the white frame. Slowly he got to his feet, trudging over to the engine of the car, his eyes tracing the tubes and wires, slowly following the edges and curves of the QR25 engine. Heavy metal doors opened and slammed closed, making the dark haired man look up. Walking over to him was his coworker, who had more connections to get parts than what Peter thought possible.

His coworker was a limber man, more brain than brawn but was a fine mixture of both much like Peter. He had dark buzzed down hair and a goatee, his skin was tanned and he had more burn scars than anyone Peter had met. The man had a million dollar smile though and dark brown eyes, in his hands he had two bags. Peter stood up straight and walked over, wiping his hands off on his work clothes. He held his hand out and took one of the bags, beginning the conversation, "This altima is a 4 cylinder and 2.5 liter, the engine is a QR25, but I don't know how I feel about it, being hit by a truck and all," He explained,

"Well," His friend began, setting his bag on another steel table, "If we wanted to give the car more kick, we would need to swap the 4 to a 6 cylinder, and change the oil brand. If the engine still runs smoothly that'd be great, and it would save us some money," He explained, sitting on a stool and pulling out a few bolts and little things they would need to make it pristine, "If the engine is crap, then we could swap it with a VQ35, but that's something we need to take up with the car owner," He stood from his stool, the metal scraping against the oil stained concrete, allowing room for a deafening screech against the drumming of rain.

Peter sighed and fell into his own stool after placing one next to him, his elbow resting on the table as his tired eyes observed the car yet again. His tanned friend sat next to him and pulled out wrapped objects from the bag Peter had taken, "You tried Peter?"

"Aren't you, Deandrew?"

"Well, yeah," The man sighs, unwrapping the white paper to reveal food. Greek food, a warm gyro and some tomatoes and onions on the side. Peter stared at it, his stomach clenching at the smell of the lamb and dill. Deandrew raises his eyebrows and gestures to the bag while taking a bite out of the pita wrapped perfection. Slowly, with a great amount of restraint, Peter takes out another wrapped bundle and rips off the tape. Then a thought comes to mind, "The QR25 is 170 horsepower, max is 190, the car wouldn't need more kick,"

"But think about it," His tanned friend chews his food and gulps it down, "The VQ gives a boost of 240 to 270 max hp," HIs dark eyes fall on Peter, who takes a bite of his food, resisting making a noise at the warm deliciousness. It had been a while since he ate, and right now this was heaven. "This isn't an SUV though, or a pathfinder, we would have to add in another liter entirely. Cody said that this was a family car, not a sports car,"

"Well, I don't know, with the right shocks and tires, the engine could run clean as a whistle for a race, drag or street racing," Deandrew let a grin slide over his lips, they locked gazes and suddenly Peter broke into a laugh which was accompanied by his coworker. Before Deandrew worked with Peter, he was a street racer, well, more so he modified the cars and got paid a lot of money for doing so. They calmed down soon enough and resumed eating, at one point Peter had pulled out a notepad and pencils, and they began brainstorming the cost and the materials needed to get this car in its pristine shape, like new.

Deandrew said sometime around 2 that Peter should head home, reluctantly he agreed. Locking a few things up before bidding goodnight, or good morning to his friend. Slowly he drove home, the rain was falling on his windshield at a drizzle, and he was grateful he had missed the harsh downpour hours prior to his leave. He parked and trudged out into the slightly heavier rain to his apartment. Where he stripped to his underclothes and washed off any oil smudges or grease that would stain his skin black.

Then, even after scrubbing the black out from under his nails, he sighed and fell onto his bed in a dramatic manner. His eyes opened only slightly as he stared at his phone. Maybe he would have to call the car owner and see how they feel, well it would be much easier if the man came down to see it himself. His fingers tightened around the dark bed sheets, and his eyes fell closed, their persistent stinging willing him to sleep.

 _"Tris!" He yelled, eyes wide afraid. She didn't turn, "Tris, hey!" She flinched, and looked up suddenly, his feet slowing down from his frantic run. All eyes followed him and rested on the two like a scene from a movie. He keeled over and caught his breath, panting at the ground as her head tilted to the side in question. "Peter, what is it?"_

 _"Will you…" He tried to look up, hauling air into his lungs as he took deeper breaths, "Will, you," He tried again, more determined to look good, because a smile slowly crept onto her lips. He stood up straight and looked at her stormy grey eyes, "Will you go out with me?"_

 _"Go out with you?" She inquired,_

 _"Like, on a date, or maybe a lot of dates," He smiled at her, raising an eyebrow waiting for her answer. A blush crept up on her cheeks and she shifted in place, moving her textbook to the other side, her grey eyes avoiding him as her teeth gnawed at her lip. He stood there, the air back in his lungs as he waited for her answer, he would stop bothering her if she said no, but if she said yes… "Why?" She asked suddenly,_

 _"What?"_

 _"Why do you want to go out with me?" She almost demanded, she looked a bit angry, did she think this was some sort of joke? "I think you're beautiful," He said to her, she stiffened and looked at him with those wide curious eyes, "You're smart, and you're funny without making fun of people, you can hold an interesting conversation, you're kinder than anyone I've ever met, and I'd like to get to know you more, outside of class," It seemed the entire college hall went silent, all of their peers standing there waiting for her answer. They would all be late to class, and it was kind of rude, but when she peeped out a shy "Yes," The hall burst into cheers, it was all a bit cliche. And they were acting like he had proposed, but he was happy._

 _Sheepishly, Tris looked up at Peter, who had stepped closer to her. Smiling she turned to face him, taking out a pen and taking his arm. She pulled up his sleeve and wrote down a sequence of numbers and then her name. He stared at it a moment, then raised his eyes to meet her soft face. "Call me tonight and we can talk about it yeah?"_

 _"Yeah," He nodded and gave her a gentle smile, the warmth of her hand on him still lingered. Hopes of tonight flowing through his mind as he began planning their date._

A shrill sound woke him from the slight curve of her lips, ripped him from her warm touch and her almost overwhelming presence. Peter sat up, glaring at the wall half asleep, the grey light of day filtering through the grey stormclouds outside and into his room. The sound paused, and then restarted, it was on a vicious cycle on a powerful and monotonous drive to wake him from her and the comfort of his bed. Rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes, he grabbed his phone and swiped his thumb over the screen, silencing the bastardly device.

The silence was incredibly thick in his room, and it didn't wait to hit him like a tidal wave, his ears rung and he yawned to pop them. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he hissed when the pads of his feet met with ice cold hardwood. He would need to get a rug for under his bed, the only room that had carpet was the living room, and he tried not to spend his nights there. With a low growl he scratched his scalp and worked his fingers through any knots in his hair. Slowly rising and walking to the kitchen, taking his phone with him, he rummaged through his cupboards for some coffee.

When he found none he pressed his forehead to his refrigerator door, finger tapping against the back side of his phone. That's right, he needed to call the Nissan owner, and possibly meet up with him. It was saturday, so they could both make due, as Peter had the day off. He needed coffee first, maybe a coffee appointment would work. He sighed, walking back to his room and grabbing some clothes, tossing his phone on his bed he took a shower. Taking longer than usual as it was 7 in the morning and he doubted the car owner would be pleased with such an early call. He got out around eight and lounged about the house for another thirty minutes before actually making the call.

Cody had given him the number after he rushed to the garage, and he didn't think he'd need it until now. Falling onto the couch he dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, it rang four times before he picked up, "Hello?" The voice said on the other line,

"Hi, I work with Dak's Garage, are you the owner of the Nissan Altima?"

"Yes," The man said hesitantly, "This is he, is there a problem?"

"Oh, no not at all, I'm calling because it has come to my attention that the car engine could be switched out, my partner at work and I are the ones working on your car. And we were looking at safer and more improved products we could apply to your car, we were wondering if you'd like to talk about the possibilities, and if it's not for you, then we could talk about lessening the cost of repairs."

"Alright, what did you have in mind?"

"The coffee shop across the street from the garage seems like a good place, we will be at a counter to the left when you walk in,"

"When is this?"

"In thirty minutes," Peter says, rising to his feet,

"Yeah that sounds fine,"

"See you then," His thumb swipes the end call button and he grabs his keys, fingers typing in another number, it is answered right away, "Peter, I just found-"

"Deandrew where are you?"

"At the garage, why?"

"I scheduled a meeting with the Altima owner in thirty minutes,"

"What? Where the hell at?" He demanded,

"Across the street, if you're working on something minor please put it down, meet me at the coffee shop okay?"

"Yeah," He sighs through the phone, "See you in a few," Peter ends the call and hops into his car, it rained last night so the roads were still a bit slick, but that was it really. With little traffic Peter made it there twenty minutes later, meeting Deandrew at the front of the shop and greeting him with a nod. They walked inside the semi busy shop, walking over to the said destination. And they sat down, waiting for a wandering barista to take their order, idly Peter stared at the door waiting for the owner to be rid of the uneasy feeling that settled in his gut four days ago.

Then a tall man in a nice suit walked in, dark brown hair only an inch long, and his eyes a dark blue color. He ordered a coffee and casually looked around the room, pausing when he saw Peter and Deandrew. After getting his iced coffee he walked over to the two as they both stood, deandrew shook his hand and introduced himself. They exchanged nods before the man and Peter looked at each other, Peter held out his hand and offered a smile, "Peter, I'm the one who called you here,"

"Peter," The man mumbled, pulling his hand away, "I'm Tobias, thanks for calling me,"

"You are the car owner right?" Deandrew asked, sitting down and gesturing for Tobias to do so as well. Peter settled next to Tobias and listened, "Well, actually it's my girlfriends car,"

"Is she aware that it would most likely be cheaper to buy a new car?"

"I tried telling her," Tobias chuckled, shaking his head, "She said it meant something to her,"

"Was she not," Peter started, "Able to meet us as well?"

"She had work," Tobias explains sipping on his coffee, "But, I'm here to take notes for her and relay this information back, she is a busy woman," Peter nodded and pulled out a notepad, notes already scribbled down on the yellow paper in blue pen. Tobias eyed Peter in a strange way, as if sizing him up before pulling out his own pen, Deandrew spoke up first, "Let's talk about what needs to be replaced."

 **Almost there.** **But who can guess who Tobias's girlfriend is?**


	4. Chapter 4

_A movie, of all of the options in the world for a first date, he had picked a movie. At first it had seemed like a brilliant idea, something simple, sweet, traditional. Now that he was actually picking her up he couldn't help but scowl at himself, this was the first date with Tris, he had to make it special. And being the idiot he was when it came to her he had foolishly chosen a movie that she may not even like. If there was a scoreboard for each decision he made tonight he knew he was starting off with a flat zero. Peter sighed and pressed his forehead to the top of the steering wheel, mouthing curses and huffing through his nose. He would have to wing it, after all, she still had no idea what they were doing._

 _A soft tapping pulled him from his abis of cursing, he looked up, a grin spreading across his lips without his consent. He reached over the seat and unlocked the door for her, just as a gust of wind blew her hair and scarf in her face. She giggled, then she got into the car, pulling down the vanity mirror and fixing herself. When she shut it and looked at him, he held out the white flowers he had selected, admittedly with the help of the older woman who owned the shop. Tris froze, beautiful glossy eyes locking onto the flowers, her hands reaching out, fingers gently and delicately brushing his as she took the bouquet from him._

 _He sat there anxiously, biting his lip and eyeing her reaction. Taking in how her lips parted in awe as her fingertips lightly traced the various petals. "Did you know jasmine flowers mean grace and elegance?" He asked her, then she looked up, a smile spreading across her face. "My mother prides in a garden of eden," Tris begins, "I know a large variety of names and meanings for plants and flowers," Then she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He froze up, hands clenching the wheel harder and his eyes widening. Her lips were like rose petals, brushing his skin softly, yet sending head down to his very core. She lingered, whispering in his ear, "Did you know that jasmine also means pleasure?"_

Though his eyes weren't open, and he was still half asleep, he could smell it. The scent of jasmine flowers, and her. He could remember her smell, the sweet vanilla spice that rolled off of her addictive skin. Her seduction when it came to him, how evil she could be towards him when she knew he had wanted her. Though she was no shy girl in the bedroom , he didn't think of her like that, not all the time anyway. If Peter remembered her, it would be by the way she laughed, how bright her eyes were when she was happy. There was so much about her, so much that Peter had learned within a year of her presence that he could write a story about it. And though he wasn't the type to perform in those arts, he would do it anyway.

His eyes opened, eyelashes sticking together for a moment before he sighed heavily, leaning forward and pressing his face into his hands. The hands that used to hold hers. Why was he thinking about her? Why so much, why so vividly? His fingers grabbed his phone and he checked the time, eyes catching the date as well. Then they widened and he froze. So that was why. Today, was the day she left him, the day she disappeared from his life and college without a word or explanation to his name. The screen went dark, shrouding his face again in the early morning shades. Wearily he got up, trudging over to his bathroom and falling into his routine.

He focused on work, today he would deliver the Nissan Altima with no new engine but a safer rolling cage, and new frame work. Yes, today he would again struggle to forget about her, shoving everyone away while he hated the world for doing this to him. For pulling her away, for depriving him of what little good he got from life that came to him in the form of a small blue eyed blonde.

He grabbed his wallet and phone, flipping through his cash as he would take the bus back to the garage. Grabbing his keys and locking up everything he made way downstairs, falling into his car and pausing, looking at his hands and how they grip the steering wheel, the same way he gripped them on their first date. Shaking his head and scoffing he revved the engine, pulling out and driving to work like he did every day. Pulling into his spot at work and signing in, though he wasn't dressed for work, just in jeans and a black t-shirt. He greeted Cody and Deandrew, both were busy but Peter announced he was taking the car. It was now a chrome white, the paint re-done with an added layer of paint to protect it. Peter whistled, grinning because even though repairing it was a pain in the ass, it was sleek and beautiful now that he'd tampered with the frame.

Pulling the keys from the hook he walked over to it, eyeing the new tires and steel rims. Fingers brushing the hood of the car as he walked around it, it looked brand spanking new, and he couldn't be more proud of himself. Sliding the key into the port and turning it he started the engine, smiling at the smooth sound and then revved it with the door open. The sound rolling and pumping and purring at him. Hissing and vibrating before he closed the door, bucking his seatbelt, and driving out.

Tapping on his phone screen a few times he pulled up the directions to the house. The female voice spoke and directed him. Following loyally, getting upset at her rerouting bs, he eventually made it. Parking up on the curb right in front of the house. The drive was surprisingly short, only twenty or thirty minutes away due to traffic. he turning off the directions and shoved his phone in his pocket. Killing the engine and getting out of the car. He took in his surroundings, there was a break in the grey clouds above him, revealing the blue sky and the warm rays of the sun. The sound of children squealing and playing could be heard not too far away. This was the place of white picket fencing, of a perfect life. This was suburbia.

This was the area he was looking for a home in, for her, because he had asked her if she would move in with him. Suddenly a ball bounced towards his feet and hit his shin. He looked down and picked up the red ball, kneeling down and smiling at the little girl running at him. She was a bit wobbly on her feet and her hair was impossibly long, down to her waist. It was this light brown almost blonde color. And from her closer proximity he could see her eye color, it was this bizarre mix of green and blue. She stopped in front of him, reaching out her hands for her ball, "Is this yours?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow, sure that this was the house he was delivering the car to. She nodded, her slightly wavy hair falling into her face. "Do you live here?" She nodded again. Peter smiled and said, "I'm making a delivery, it's to this house,"

"Is it for me?" She asked, her speech very good for how young she looked. Peter grinned, "No, I don't think it is," He told her sadly, "I think it's for your mommy or daddy, could you take me to them?"

"Okay!" She giggled, forgetting about her ball and taking Peter's hand, and dragging him through the rose tripped yard. The door had a glass over, but the wood itself looked like a heavy mahogany. The girl opened the door and screamed, "Mommy! There's a person here!" She let go of Peter's hand and ran to the stairs, letting him stand there and close the door behind him. He glanced around, taking in the incredibly homey feel and set up. The couch looked incredibly comfortable and was positioned in front of a large flat screen. There were candles lined all along the window sills and the floors were all a light colored hardwood. It was a very earthly place. Then he heard footsteps and a heavy sigh. "Mommy!" The girls squealed, jumping up and down, "Look!"

"Athena Rose! What did I tell you about strangers!?" The mother scolded, descending the stairs. Peter shifted awkwardly, then spoke, "Uhm, I'm from Dak's Garage, I repaired the Nissan and it's parked out front," The woman stopped, but from what he could see she was incredibly small for a mother. Her skin was a smooth creamy color, and she didn't seem to care about her attire. "I just, have the keys here, and need the payment, and I'll be on my way," He said slowly. Watching as the woman slowly walked down the rest of the steps. But the more he saw of her, the more he felt his eyes widen and his blood go cold.

Her blonde hair was much longer now, her face a bit more angular, and her body just a bit more curved. But he could never forget the curves and edges of her skin. Her eyes were the same, doe like stormclouds with splashes of blue. And her name slipped past his lips before he could stop it, the name he repeated like a mantra, the name he told countless 'I love you's' to, the name that he had once come to despise, "Tris."


End file.
